Space Marine: The Rising Sons
by Ender1030
Summary: The Tingle Arm, a space wrought threats of Xeno invasion faces an internal threat: rival Imperial warlords vying for control of territory and struggles amongst the humans for dominance amongst the stars. The Chapter will unite them, by blood if needed.
1. All Quiet in the Bamboo Forest

AN: I was heavily inspired by Dan Anbett's Brothers of the Snake. The following is a tribute to him. Before any of you ask, yes I realize how corny a Samurai Space Marine is, but you know what? If Mr. Anbett can write about Spartan Space Marines, hell I can do this :P. Anyway I hope that all of you enjoy this, I've tried to keep it within Japanese lore and feudal society at the same time that i keep with 40K canon. And no, THE NAMES ARE NOT FROM POPULAR ANIME CHARACTERS. lets get that clear... so keep your heads ducked, always check your armor and clean your weapons, prepare for death and glory and honor: Enter the Rising Sons.

* * *

The bamboo swayed in the outcrop and the warriors of the House knelt in a circle. The giant in the center, the veteran sergeant of Tactical Squad Tiger knelt in peaceful meditation, the silver blade across his thighs. He was freshly washed, bathed, oiled and perfumed with sweet soaps and clothed in a linen of the purest unsoiled whites. He bowed from his kneeling position, his iron hard belly pressing against the flat of the blade as he finished his prayer of servitude and honor toward the God Emperor of Mankind and the Red Sun that rose to the East, which was available for him to stare at as that portion of the bamboo forest had been cut away. They bowed with him and raised their eyes toward the veteran sergeant, for this was the Act of Ultimate Contrition and none should look away. His second in command stood and drew his curved sword, the blade reflecting a blood red mark on the ground in front of the sergeant. The sergeant looked at him and smiled, drawing his own blade. He shucked his white linens so that his torso was bare and naked, unmarked, unblemished and bearing scars for the honor of the Emperor. The blade flashed in the sergeants hands in a flurry of light so that in a space of ten seconds he had roughly inscribed a deep and bloody Aquila on his chest and belly. The pain, too great for even one as augmented as the sergeant who had been in countless victories brought a horrible grimace to his once calm face. He shed not a tear. The Aquila wept blood down his chest. He doubled over hiding it for a moment and let it hang, the blood dripped down, and the mark of the eagle was imprinted on the soil as it had been done since the Dark Age of Technology. He lowered his head and breathed the command.

Soshiro let his blade drop across his honored and beloved leader's neck.

Thus the Act of Ultimate Contrition had been performed, and not one warrior of the House looked away. The dishonor had been cut away by the path of the blade and the warriors of the House bowed their heads in honor of their brother sergeant's passing.

The next day the body was burned, the geneseed recovered and two days of funeral games were held in the passing leaders honor. Soshiro accepted the blade of his fallen leader, the power sword Crimson Song and assumed the mantle of Sergeant, leader of Tactical Squad Tiger.

* * *

"It is no dishonor!" Soshiro begged brother sergeant Ichigara. "We have felled many our enemies on that field of battle, enough for a thousand honors and a thousand feasts!"

Ichigar smoothed his head and scratched the cross scar on his cheek. "We have failed to complete our objective." He said simply. "That is dishonor to the Emperor enough, that I was, am, unworthy enough to complete his holy work." And there was nothing he could do to stop him. The Undertaking at Summerus five, fifth moon of the gas giant, had proven too much for Tiger Squad.

"It was too much for one squad to take at all." Soshiro begged again. He loved his brother sergeant, he was a strong leader, wise, calculating and ruthless. But his sense of honor had damned him and his pride was broken, shattered to a billion irreparable shards. "The Orks were too much for any one squad of the House, you have done your duty to them, to us, to the Emperor!"

"I have only done my duty to you and the House, and that was getting all of you brothers out alive." He said without looking at him. "But in not completing the duty of the Emperor, I have soiled myself and the Undertaking."

"But the Act of Contrition! Why would the House Council force such a trial upon you?"

"They have forced nothing on me." Ichigara smiled as he perfumed his hair, "I have asked for it myself. I have failed the Emperor and his displeasure is more than I can bear." He finished and walked toward his crimson and obsidian trimmed armor, stroking his second skin as he prayed goodbye to the machine spirit that had kept him safe for all of his tasks. The power armor would be melted down, and reforged to fit a new member of the House, one of the inductees Soshiro would see fit to acknowledge into his squad. "Keep Tiger bonded together, keep them strong, and may Crimson Song serve you as well as it has served me." He said and together, they walked into the clearing to perform the Act.

The Test of Blades was the one Soshiro undertook, he was the best blade fighter of Tiger, he gripped his bamboo mock sword two handed and took a defensive stance, baiting the younger inductee into an attack. The brother inductee Haru batted Soshiros blade aside and thrust at his chest but Soshiro backstepped and parried the blade upward and readdressed with a downward slash. Surprisingly, Haru let the slash slide off his own so that it trailed dangerously low, Haru following up with a vicious right kick that Soshiro blocked with his arm. He showed more experience than the other inductees, that showed potential. But the boy was hotheaded, over aggressive the way he swung his blade expended too much energy, his inner energy channeled outward uselessly. But he defended very well, taking to heart that the offense was the best defense, Soshiro's blade time and time again was forced into an overextension by Haru's simple wristwork and several blows, if not for Soshiro's own vast experience would have proved fatal if they were real. But an offensive defense was no match for a true blade defense. Soshiro parried Haru's blade after a particularly aggressive flurry of blows and ended the match in two strikes. The first was caught on the right side of his blade, blocked successfully, but quick as a striking snake Soshiro swung the hilt around to clout the brother boy across the temple hard enough to knock him over. Brother Haru bowed and smiled good naturedly as he stood up, admitting his own defeat. He walked away massaging the sizeable bump he had received.

"Mark him." Soshiro quietely told the Lexicanum. "Come and talk to me Brother Haru" Soshiro sat down in the fighting circle. "Leave us." He ordered the Scribe and he bustled away.

"You use your sword well." Soshiro noted as Haru sat down across from him. "Tell me how much combat experience have you had?"

"I have successfully completed three more than the required tasks, and can claim more than a hundred lives in blade work alone." A little boastful but quite satisfactory. More than satisfactory in fact, excellent. But still the hot headedness needed to be extinguished.

"All notable." Soshiro nodded "But does your brain match your brawn brother boy?" the confident grin wavered slightly. Soshiro produced a regicide board and pieces from his travel sack. He and the rest of the inductees had climbed to Mt. Jarayai to train, while the rest of Tiger rested and prepared for the next undertaking.

"Brawn is all I have Brother Sergeant." Haru admitted and suddenly Soshiro wasn't so sure the boy was as hotheaded as he seemed. "Though it is not in my nature to shrug off a true challenge. Perhaps you can teach me to use my brain."

"Perhaps." Soshiro nodded and moved the first peon forward. "But is the young brother boy so inclined to listen to my lesson?"

Haru nodded and matched Soshiro's move. Soshiro's second test was upon the boy and now the inductee new it.

"Then listen, for this is a tale of brawn, though it should have been of brain. I will tell you of one of my last tasks as a Scout Inductee and one that taught me the true path to honor and glory. The true Way of the Warrior…


	2. Three Feathers of a Pheonix

The Three Feathers of a Pheonix

Soshiro walked among the rice paddies of Circulus. It was a common sight for the Agriworld. The Rising Sons Chapter, on the fringe of the Imperium and on the fringe of Ork space was the sole chapter for over a thousand parsecs stood vigilant over the threats of the people, the Orks, Chaos, Tyranids and most commonly, themselves. The war torn systems of the Tingle Arm in the Southern Dominion of the Imperium had created a strong people. Isolated as it was by frequently hazardous warp currents the Imperium could send little in way of supplies and a single chapter of Space Marines had stood watchful, hard pressed even for the superhuman soldiers to meet all threats to their realm. So the subjects of the divine dominion had learned to fend for themselves and a strong united people had grown amongst the stars of the Tingle Arm. Until that is, until they sought to make war upon one another, man on man and each governor sought to make himself a dominion, each lord a kingdom, a star empire for each lord of the Tingle Arm. And so the Rising Sons took on their newest task a thousand years ago. A task that they had not completed and would never complete, for the sector was so vast and the worlds so far apart, an undertaking could be put down in the time it took for a new warlord to arise and expand his reach.

The Son's Art of War, their Codex Astartes, had been set in parchment by the Primarch Fanugara Ieysu and each prospecting member who wished to enter the House of the Rising Sons would memorize it page by page. He had seen the wisdom of attempting to unify the Tingle Arm, for the Sons could not be everywhere at once and so the Sons were sent to unify all the stars by force of arms so that in the event of utter disaster and incursion, the subjects of mankind would remain strong and unified with the Rising Sons serving as the backbone. And the changes made in organization, training, even armor and weapon designs were so radical and against the standard Codex that the chapters the Sons did retain negligible contact with relatively shunned them for having been "touched by the warp". But if they had, they had not fallen from grace yet.

Soshiro grunted under the heavy load yoked across his back and kept his eyes on the road as if he were one of the billions of serfs that served on this world under the watchful piercing eyes of Warlord Mitsinaru. Although strong, he had not received his Space Marine augmentations yet so he looked and felt as normal as all those around him. But he had been accepted into the House and that made him something…more. He had, as all Scout Marines had, received the augmentations to boost his speed and sight as well as other more curious ones that befitted his status. His senses and reaction time were far superior to that of a normal human yet he did not have the second pair of lungs, heart or liver that true Space Marines rated. It was a symbol of status to have more innards.

"Faster!" a whip cracked and a cry went out as the metal phlanged Naru tail lashed across the backs of an unfortunate slacker. Soshiro quickly joined the line of peasants, bags of rice or pails of water on either side of the heavy yoke. He imitated their hunched over sullen posture quite easily, he was feeling the punishment of the load as well. Perhaps they would have made good brothers, Soshiro reflected. Someone whispered far down the line behind Soshiro, but his sharp ears caught it: they were noticing the bulging bulky bag on Soshiro's back in addition to the yoke. But if they were just whispering they would not tell. He muttered a silent prayer to the Emperor for his mission anyway. The overseer looked through each mans bag at the end of the day, checking that they had gathered their allotment before they would be lead back to their houses under the local Planetary Defense Force's lasguns and bayonets. He checked Soshiro's bags of rice and nodded. Soshiro walked forward.

"Stop." The overseer commanded. Soshiro halted.

"What is in the bag?" he said.

Soshiro bowed as was proper respect for a peasant to show to his master. "Silk, sir." Soshiro said as humbly as he could, blatantly aware of the sweat that suddenly trickled down his face. "For my wife, she is a seamstress in the Lord Mitsinaru's palace."

"Silk eh?" the overseer scoffed and didn't believe him. "open it."

"Sir." Soshiro lay the yoke down, the two bags of rice to either side as he slipped the bag of and reached in. The bolt pistol barked once, evaporating the very stupid overseers head and Soshiro was crouched into a firing position, seeking another target as he drew his short curved sword given to Scout Marines from the bag. The guards immediately rushed forward, a dozen of them. Soshiro put two shots into a first mans belly, sending his insides showering the man behind him. he bounced on his left foot springing like a tiger and flying like a crane before striking like a snake with his short sword and taking another guard's neck before he could parry with his autogun. He slid under the man, loosening the blade and his slide kicked the stance out from under a third guard who received a slash downward across his chest and stomach as he flew over Soshiro, spilling his guts across the dusty path. This had all happened in the time it took for the peasants around Soshiro to gasp. He kicked the legs out from three other peasants around him with a prone whirlwind kick that sent them sprawling back into the paddies and scattered the rest as he brought his pistol up and shot out two more approaching guards. He cursed himself for his chances, and decided he needed to run, before any more guards arrived, to support the remaining ones, the bark of a bolt pistol could be heard for kilometers in these parts. But he would only need to fire once more. He emptied his clip into one of the rice bags, detonating the smoke charges and grenades he set inside him tossing deadly fragments and shrapnel all across and scrambled to grab his yoke and spare bag. Holding it on top of his head he kept low and leaped into the paddy weaving his way toward the habitation domes far off, beneath the palace that touched the sky, home to Warlord Mitsinaru.

The halls were sweet with incense, the royal concubines snored loudly. Silently, Soshiro lay his equipment out from the empty rice bag. Although there were at least twelve kilos of rice spilled onto the floor, it was not what had made it heavy. Quickly Soshiro assembled the sniper rifle, hidden in several discreet parts, it had passed the guards quick inspection easily. Then he realized that he would not be able to use it at all. The silencer had been destroyed along with the rest of sensitive equipment, portable voxcaster, grenades, night vision, all destroyed. Soshiro muttered a curse to himself: he was too far into the castle and even if he did get the shot off, he would never be able to escape himself, it would undoubtedly be heard. Was an honorable death what he craved? He was sure he could fight off most of the royal guards and give himself a great accountability but no he would surely perish. He did not want to use the poison he carried in his belt pouch. It was dishonorable and the shame would only be doubled if he escaped with his life and killed in such a cowardly, unskilled fashion. Perhaps if he were to sneak into the Warlords bed chamber and slip the drops of poison into his lips by thread- no, no ever since his fight down by the farms the palace guard had been put on full alert, the patrols tripled. There'd be no way to enter his chambers, he'd have to do it at the next Palace Hearing. Soshiro liked that idea, a thousand people in the hall as Lord Mitsinaru lay down the laws of the land in the middle of his feasts. A large crowd would make it easier to escape in, and the lighting would make the shadows darker, longer. His work could be completed and there was still an element of honor. He might have to fight his way out, but the guards there would be unprepared to handle anything more than the prospect of a drunken brawl. No one would be stupid enough to assassinate the lord on his own feast day! Or perhaps no one was honorable enough to try. Soshiro knew he was. But he still needed a method of delivery- there. A bamboo hookah lay across the hall, a thin strand of the tree, he crept over the bodies of sleeping women and picked it up for examination. The inhaling reed was thin enough for a certain sharp something to be admitted. He clambered back to his hiding place and smiled. He had a decent, silent weapon to perform his task. Quickly he changed into his stealth garb, plates of adamanite hidden underneath folds of tight fitting pitch black clothes coupled with a hood and a mask that covered his mouth and nose. He was ready, by the emperor. He evaded the guards, his leather boots were muffled by the strips of cloth he had bound them against, he kept his footsteps light, as he had practiced for the last ten years and had exercised for the last three. It was no challenge, despite their alertness the lighting was too much against them. The blackness swallowed up Soshiro and the halls were far too vast for anyone to see him. He found himself an alcove high up in the rafters (he had used hand climbing hooks attached to his wrists to get himself up there) and found he had a good view of the hall. He opened the window behind him, that would be his escape route: now all he had to do was wait.

The feast was in full swing. The warriors Lord Mitsinaru wished to honor had been honored to the roaring cheer of the Lords guests all seven heroes had seats of honor at the Lords sides. The consorts and concubines danced in next, followed by a miniature parade of trophies gained from the latest campaign, wild flowers, golden icons of devotion to the Emperor, powerswords adorned with jewels and gilded in precious metals, then the slaves arrived next. Royal beauties from the conquered planet followed by the nobles, their families and as a finally, the Lord Himajiwa himself. His face had been caked with mud and he'd been stripped naked and forced to dance in front of the laughing Mitsinaru's court. And as a saving grace from his shame, Lord Mitsinaru orated a speech for what was left of Lord Himajiwa's honor and then killed him so he would suffer no further dishonor. Then the feasting began, foods that Soshiro had never dreamed of tasting, were abundant and rich here. Even though Soshiro never had desired such things, his stomach gurgled and his mouth salivated sympathetically. Soshiro shook his head, and drew out the hookah.

It was time.

The Lord Mitsinaru and his honored warriors were disgustingly drunk in there thrones, the eight of them groped at passing Dames of the court and sung loudly in discordant tones. The guards were drunk as well, some passed out where they stood. Soshiro had worked all night, silently and impossibly slowly to draw the nail from the window and sharpen the thick unwieldy thing into a more aerodynamic form, as best as he could make using his short sword in the dark. He was confident he could hit his target at this range but he would still prefer something to steady the dart's flight-

A trilling song almost made Soshiro jump: a gold breasted bird with red tipped feathers alighted next to him and pecked at the seed crumbs that clung to the sole of Soshiro's feet. It tickled and Soshiro withheld the urge to laugh though a tight lipped smile exploded onto his face. Soshiro gazed at the bird, the golden red tipped Pheonix native to the Tingle Arm were supposed to bring good luck from the Emperor although Soshiro never believed in such things. What this one did bring however, was a way for him to steady the dart's flight path. He plucked three feathers off the Pheonix – surprisingly it didn't squawk in alarm and attack. It just jumped slightly ruffled its feathers and gave Soshiro a knowing stare. He returned the stare and muttered a prayer of thanks to the Emperor as he quickly fletched the dart. He reached for the- Damn.

The Pheonix had flown away clutching the bottle of poison as if in final revenge or payment for its feathers. It was probably attracted to the shiny green bottle, Soshiro had no qualms. He had to take the shot now but now he was not sure of a kill. At this range he would surely pierce the skin but the dart, without being coated in something, would not be lethal. No, no! he had come this close, it was inconceivable that he would be dishonored by a mere bird! He cursed the bird silently and thought, racking his brain. Three drunk ballads went by and most of the court passed out where they lay, though the Lord Mitsinaru still fondled the latest drunk Dame to come across his lap. The wine, like blood ran down his chin and he tossed the goblet away to lean toward her mouth to share the drunken kiss, to share the blood red wine:

Blood. Soshiro's blood was toxic. All of the Chapter's blood was, since the days of fighting the Dark Eldar. Soshiro cut his palm and bathed the dart with his own blood, ignoring the pain. The rusty nail was now sleek and shiny with red. A blood red dart from one of the Emperor's chosen, fitted with charms of good luck that would help it fly true. He liked the thought. He pressed the blowgun to his lips, lowering the mask off his chin with his free hand and sighted. It was a two hundred meter shot, Soshiro's augmented lungs would possibly reach that distance. He had never tried shooting a dart at such a distance before although the Drill Sergeants had said it was possible. He steadied himself, forced his breathing rate down so that he inhaled a breath every fifteen seconds, his heart slowed to a crawl close to deanimation. The blowgun was perfectly still. He muttered a prayer of true flight to the Emperor, and blew, curving his tongue as he had been instructed so that the air forced out of his lungs was concentrated. The red dart sailed down, a dull red blur that was almost impossible to see. Those of the court that saw it would possibly have only thought it a hallucination. The red and gold feathered dart struck Lord Mitsinaru in the lower jaw, punching through the skin into one of the veins; blood mixed with blood. For a moment, Soshiro feared that his toxin failed to work but slowly, as his eyes adjusted to the distance, he could see that Mitsinaru's face had reddened deeply as though deeply shamed his jaw working around an imaginary morsel. The Dame in his lap failed to notice her drunken fantasy's current condition and kissed him on the forehead, the feather of the dart tickled her throat. She giggled and plucked it out of his jaw brushing her own lips with the feathers. Soshiro saw all he needed. And as he padded swiftly and silently across the rooftops and signaled with his one tone vox unit to signal for extraction from the waiting stealth shuttle the scream of the Dame cut across with a sharper and louder volume than Soshiro's sniper rifle ever could have achieved. He leaped into the air and down into the waiting hull of his shuttle, Techmarine Kanitsumoto inclined his head in acknowledgement of the scream and the accomplishment of Sashiro's task. Soshiro quickly closed the hatch: but just as quickly three feathers from a phoenix bright gold and red tipped, red as blood, floated in and landed in Soshiro's bandaged palm.


	3. Teeth and Eyes of the Unagi

Teeth and Eyes of the Unagi

The Final Trials had begun. Inductee Haru had passed his first Trial, surviving the genetic augmentation injections that would elevate him to a Tactical Marine. He now stood two meters tall, he was bulging veined muscle. He could run faster than the winds, he could snap human bone like toothpicks between his massive fingers. He could see in the dark, he could smell the footprints left behind by animals, he had the dexterity of a tiger. But was he ready to join the ranks of a Tactical Marine?

Soshiro guided him along the path, deep in the bamboo forests and out to the Golden Cliffs of the fortress moon Edo, home to the Chapter House. He instructed Haru to strip naked and to swim to the far off island, a three kilometer swim, there and back. He was given one item, the sword he had used as an assassin scout, slicked with animal blood to attract all manners of marine predators. Soshiro remembered how Brother Sergeant Ichigara had instructed him to do the same. It was suicide for a normal man he said, but if he was truly honorable enough to emerge a Tactical Marine, he would pass this danger as easily as all of his past undertakings. Haru bowed in honor of Soshiro and the rest of Tactical Squad Tiger and leaped off the thirty meter cliff and into the crashing white waves below.

Tactical Squad Tiger stood in full battle dress. Their armor, a rainbow of colors, were a result of the Chapter's individuality, each marine choosing a color and armor of his pleasing. Unlike other chapters who molded all their marines into a single cohesive unit erasing all senses of individuality beyond personality and strategic combat preferences, the Rising Sons Art of War encouraged it, believing that individuality and creativity resulted in a more effective combat unit, with so many different chaotic elements thrown into a single cohesive fighting force that would unbalance the enemy and force him into a state of confusion.

Brother Tokayaka's shoulder pouldrons were spiked for ramming. His helmet was adorned with a pair of bull's horns as well. The full redness of his armor mirrored his personality, an inclination to battle fury matched by no other in the chapter.

Brother Manatsu's green based, yellow trimmed armor betrayed his simplicity, the color chosen because they were the easiest paints in reach. His down to earth fighting style was a legend amongst the chapter and he was the second best blade handler in the squad. His skill, came from his rooted devotion to the core principles of sword fighting, leverage, balance and strength and relied primarily on basic moves.

Brother Yokumano's light blue orange trimmed armor matched the sky and the morning sun. Although no master fighter amongst the Chapter House, he was loved for his way with words and his song, his vocal talents often called upon during ceremonies. In addition to his sword and bolter, a five meter tall lance stood by his side. A bamboo shaft with an adamantium point, phlanged with spikes and a serrated age for stabbing and slashing, could be converted to a flute and when Yokumanu swung the weapon, it whistled as though performing the death song of his enemies.

Brother Saketo's armor was gunmetal grey with a red, blue and yellow trim. He never showed any enthusiasm but his loyalty to the House and his sense of honor were unmatched in Soshiro's opinion. But he would have to be watched, Soshiro had no intention for anyone to repeat Brother Sergeant Ichigara, whom Saketo had shed not a tear for.

Brother Apothecary Fomuwo adopted the white and red armor that befitted his status, he handled stress better than all of his squadmates and served as a man of council for any with private problems they wished not to shame their brothers with. Instead of the standard katana blade that his brothers carried he had seen fit to equip himself with two shortened blades, identical to that he had carried as an assassin scout. He used these in place of scalpels, and his accuracy when he threw them were the boast of the squad.

Brother Uzikato was the eldest member and the wisest. Although not the second in command, Brother Sergeant Ichigara often deferred to Uzikato's instincts and experience, something Soshiro would imitate. His armor was white with leaf and diamond emblems across his chest.

Brother Dorimo's black armor with yellow trim and star marks marked him as the most stealthy of them all. Above this, he was the crack shot of the squad, the additional equipment he carried into battle was a sniper converter for his boltgun.

Brother Kamida's armor was scaled, like that of a dragon. A veteran of the Chapter House's Assault Squads, he had transferred to the Tacticals after the death of his entire team at the hands of Orks. He was the most distant of them, yet Soshiro knew he could count on his loyalty and standing. He was the only other Brother in the squad to carry a powersword aside from the sergeant and he had kept his jump pack in addition to his equipment, a miniature gauntlet flame thrower in his left hand and his knack for explosives.

Soshiro's own armor was gold, with a red trim along the pouldrons and gauntlet gloves. He had a feather design along the arms and his helmet curved downward like a beak and he had struck three adamantium phoenix feathers on the right side of the helmet. The red blade of Crimson song glistened as if eager for the taste of blood.

As one, the rising sun reflected a kaleidoscope of colors off the united squads armor onto the golden rocks under their feet as they watched Brother Haru finish his trial. His climb back up the sheer drop of a cliff was only slowed by the heads of a dozen Unagi, giant predator eels with teeth capable of shredding and ripping through flesh and bone in microseconds. Soshiro nodded toward the equipment laid out in front of the gasping Haru, a stove, blocks of adamantium and food and drink which Haru tore into ravenously. When he finished his meal he cocked his head curiously at the forge and blocks of metal.

"You will forge your own armor, your second skin, as is the tradition of the chapter." Soshiro said. "You have prepared for this have you not?"

"I have not brother sergeant." Haru admitted sheepishly. "the devotion of my attention went to the Emperor and how best to serve him."

"then I will teach you." Brother Uzikato stroked his gray hair and sat beside Haru.

"The metals and forge equipment have all been provide for you, as well as the delicate wiring that will connect you to this skin. But it is up to you and with the guidance of the Emperor to create this armor for you. First we will take your measurements…"

The squad had been through the process before. It would take at least a month for Haru to complete his Trials, for that was how long it took for him to size, forge, wire and paint his armor if he did it all perfectly the first time. Not only this but he would have to hunt for his own food and forge for his own water, he would have to create the paints he wished to have and search for the inspiration of his armor. And in addition he would forge his own blade, a process alone that took two weeks. But from these trials emerged a Space Marine, one of the Chapter House ready to combat the Emperor's enemies with sword and blood. Tiger Squad would observe the entire time, training and encouraging as Haru underwent the trials for they were all brothers, all one squad. Haru crushed the Adamantium Ore with his hands and when those failed, with a hammer and slowly but surely his armor began to take shape, plate by plate, sheet by sheet. And by the end of one and a half months, Brother Haru, in his new checker patterned red and blue armor, like that of a regicide board (he had bested Soshiro much to his surprise) and a helmet with the dagger teeth and double pair of glaring eyes of an Unagi stood amongst Tactical Squad Tiger, ready for the next undertaking.


	4. Fangs of the Dragon, Arm of the Warrior

The Undertaking was under commencement. Already chapter heralds had requested the Lords of the Tingle Arm to send aide to the plighted Summerus five, and they along with choice squads bore the message that they hoped against all hope that the Lords would respect: lay down your swords against one another join the Rising Sons in fighting the greenskin hordes that fell amongst the dominion. But already word had reached Edo that several of the more prominent Lords, with serious troop and fleet strengths, would not rally under the banner of the Space Marines who had terrorized them for so long. It seemed that the Rising Sons stood alone against unnumerable waves of Orks. Soshiro had seen it, Ichigara had barely gotten out alive. The asteroids had slammed into the planet and the plea had gone out to the Rising Sons, whom they responded quickly wby sending Tiger Squad. Ten versus an estimated two billion Orks. Impossible odds even for those used to accomplishing the impossible. So the entire chapter had been mobilized. A hundred proud squads, three fourths tactical, one fourth assault, with supporting tank, fighter and several squads of inductee scout assassins honored enough to join the undertaking. All these were to rendezvous above the Fortress Moon Edo, home of the Chapter House where they would rally around the Flagship _Shogun_, a mighty aging Battlecruiser to rain death and destruction on the greenskins. Most of the engagement would be done in space, Force Commander Isei decided, he would use the mighty batteries of the fleet to soften up the ground before his forces landed to engage the swine in open combat. The Orks were many but slow, if they continued at the rate of advance that Soshiro and Ichigara had noted three months before, they would swallow the planet in two years, barely enough time for the Chapter fleet to mobilize and arrive.

So Tiger Squad and the seventy that had remained on planet took up their temporary home amongst the strike cruisers of the House escorted by nearly a hundred destroyers, frigates and light cruisers from the Home world of Edo, the world in which the chapter indoctrinated potential inductees. One week later the last of the herald squads had returned, some with small fleets in tow, the weaker smaller Lords that lacked the backbone and honor to challenge the might of the House responded, but they lacked ships in great number and tonnage, the biggest amongst them, a medium cruiser converted to a carrier, the interceptor and bomber pilots inexperienced although well trained. So once the force had been accounted for the chapter fleet and the motley flotilla in tow slipped into the violent warp for the four week journey.

Some squads deanimated for the trip, so they would be sharp and rested. Soshiro kept his squads tense and anxious to accomplish the same thing. Games of regicide, throwing contests, drinking contests, any contest they could think of in fact was done to pass the time. And above all stories. Each member of Tiger had a story behind him. Haru drank them all. But he somehow saved the most independent member, Brother Kamida, for last. He only asked once he remarked that Kamida's left glove was shaped like the head of the peaceful dragons of Edo, who soared amongst the heavens on waves of heat and doused their prey in the cleansing flame of the Emperor.

"It breaths like a dragon too." Kamida laughed and delicately applied paint to the red and blue eyes. A small kindling of flame puffed from the mouth of the dragon, from the palm of his hands.

"How?" Haru stood amazed. Kamida laughed again and slipped off the glove, the suit hissed as its seals were broken.

"It is not your hand!" Haru exclaimed, and studied the prosthetic closely, inside, there was a small flask filled with promethium, the nozzle was hidden as a small indent on his palm.

Kamida's face grew slightly darker though the twinkle in his eyes remained. The smile was gone. "It is not my hand. It was my brother's…"

A year ago, Force Commander Beltatsu lead a proud undertaking of ten squads supported by two regiments of Lord Pitsumada's Guard heavy infantry to cleanse Pitsumada's homeworld of greenskins. They desolated the volcanic world, where the dragons that ruled the skies of Edo swam in the rivers of molten rock, where the greenskins found that the environment could be every bit as inhospitable as those they tried to take it from.

Three battles took place, one on the southern Hemisphere, one Southwest and the final to the farthest west, where the Orks had fortified their Nob huts amongst the volcanoes of Waokin island. The sand was black, Brother Kamida of Assault Squad Kamodo noted duly, volcanic ash mixed with the sand, or the heat had scorched every miniscule grain. His Brother Sergeant Tatsuke had been ordered quickly to the right flank to help support squads Kraken and Tiger on their hook which had been stalled by a heavy bolter nest. They rode quickly on landspeeders, blasting through a mob of Gretchins and Orks as they passed, and got into position behind Tiger and Kraken, he could see the twenty brother's armor deflecting bolter shells in the molten, smoky orange light of the volcano.

The roar of the Orks was almost louder than the roar of the volcano. Kamida would fight all the harder, his twin brother whom he had grown up with and trained side by side until their paths split like a fork in the road was a vaunted member of Tiger squad who's technical ingenuity was matched by his twins skill in blade and explosives. Twin Brother Damika would give the signal, an honor given to him by Brother Sergeant Ichigara. A thrown salvo of grenades followed by a gout of flame that jetted into the sky, courtesy of Damika's prosthetic implanted flamer signaled the attack.

"For the Emperor!" the cry rose from Kamodo's squad and lifted as their jump packs sent them skyward, and they came crashing down from the heavens like a thunderbolt amidst the heavy bolter nests of the green skins. Kamida's powersword tasted Ork flesh again, blue fire trickling across skin as it bit in and cleaved through flesh and bone. Kamida laughed as a battle hymn struck up on Brother Sergeant Tatsuke's lips and he quickly joined in as he lay into enemy with his powersword in his right and bolt pistol in his left. They were quickly joined by the roaring Kraken and Tiger as they competed each other for the highest amount of havoc they could wreak amongst the Orks. Kamida soon found himself back to back with his twin, both had painted themselves in the dull green scales of a dragon, twin dragons that slew swine. By unspoken consent, Damika slashed his katana sideways, cleaving through the shaft of an Ork hatchet and disemboweling the owner simultaneously and ducked as if sensing the Ork that swung at head level to his right. Impossibly, for neither twin had spoken a word to each other, Kamida came to his brothers aide, boosting his jump pack forward so that he slammed into the much taller Ork Nob and ran him through. From his crouched position as he tried to wrestle the powersword from the Nob's gut Kamida shot six more Orks but screamed in surprise and rage as another bellowed and bit onto both bolt pistol and hand. The thing exploded, maybe overstress had cracked the clip housing and the heat had cooked off the shells inside, but the result was that Kamida now had no left hand, but at the very least the Ork had no head. Kamida slew one handed now, sowing a trail of carnage to the right of Brother Damika as all the squads pushed on to wipe out the remaining Ork fortifications. The three squads reached the lip of the hill then turned down left, charging the last of the Ork positions below that had harried the rest of the force for the past three hours. Brother Damika lead the charge and personally cooked the leading Nob with his prosthetic flamer, the dragon glove belched purifying flame. They raised a victory cheer, Kamida laughed and lowered his battle mask so that Damika could know how much he had honored him just by being his brother.

Disaster.

The volcano erupted violently, the work of some Ork below with melta bombs cooked off the deadly gasses in the chambers below, the ground exploded from under them, Orks, by some foul magic or witchery burst from the ground that spilled lava bellowing their war cry. They were not green at all, a bright eye hurting orange yellow as if they were molten metal. Surprise was total.

Kamida had landed on his back, the jump pack cracking against his back and leaving him a bruise that lasted for months but when he got up, he found the squads fighting for their lives. More Orks poured out of the hole in the ground a cave to the underworlds themselves. Kamida parried a blow awkwardly, for his blade was never meant to be used one handed, but his sword was out of his defensive line, and the Ork's other hand carried an equally large cleaver. Damika's katana sprouted through the center of his gut as the greenskin howled along with the others. Their black magic faltered, and the molten magma set into their skin burning through their flesh and bone, but they were still a hazard in their burning frenzy, their swings became wilder, less controlled and although reduced their chance of getting a hit, would most certainly cleave through the plates of adamantium that the Sons wore. Damika clove through three Orks, then sheathed his sword as it became chipped and warped from the extreme heat and began laying in with his bolter in one hand, firing from the hip and his flamer augmentic. A molten orange Ork snatched at Damika's dragon gauntlet at the wrist yanking and wailing. The flamer abruptly cut off as the gauntlet was yanked off its pressure seals and depressurized. Outraged, Damika clouted it over the side of the head and shot it on the ground. The ground itself shook and an explosion from the volcano tossed fragments of terra high into the air to come crashing down on the molten Orks that surrounded the Space Marines as they desperately attempted to fight there way out. Kamida saw three of his squad brothers fall, felled by bolter, flamer or hatchet and blade. One had his jump pack explode behind him, a lucky missile hit kicked off the promethium fuel and exploded his torso leaving only his armored limbs and head remaining. Then the ground gave way under them yet again, this time spilling a river of magma. It cut Kamida and Damika off from the rest of the squads as they fought back to back, once an island in a sea of Orks, now standing on an island barely two meters wide surrounded by a sea of lava as the volcano spurt anew. Kamida saw it clearly and cried out. The rest of Kamodo squad rallied behind Brother Tatsuke and slowly were drowned in the tied as the sheer weight of numbers of foes piled themselves up into a heap eight cadavers thick before the last man of the assault squad fell. Force Commander Beltatsu bellowed a retreat so he could consolidate and reorganize his forces and Kamida hastened to follow. He told Damika to grab his hand, he had sheathed his powerblade leaving his good arm to bear his twin's weight. He was unsure whether he could actually hold onto his twin brother or if his jumppack could support the combined weight of two…

No he shut the possibility out of his mind. He had to carry them absolutely had t-

The ground gave way beneath Damika's feat, melted away by the swirling river. Damika cried out, Kamida immediately grabbed hold of the dragon gauntlet and activated his jump pack. But the adamantium was too heavy and Kamida failed to lift up. Damika sank below the surface, there was a small chance Damika might survive if not for one thing. The suit seals had been breached along the dragon glove and the molten terra burned through it, separating the glove and prosthetic hand from its owner. Damika cooked alive in his armor. The glove and hand gave way with a sudden yank and Kamida with an uncontrolled high jump jetted away from his brother.

Ichigara sorry for his brother and his own loss, came to comfort Kamida, Tiger with them, they remembered Damika's great deeds and burned sweet incense and said prayers in his name so that he may feast forever in the Golden halls of the Emperor. Kamida too said prayers for every last one of his fallen squad brothers, they would have a place in heaven and would wait for him with outstretched arms. One of the dragons had been slain, in and his twin brother cried for blood. Over the next year, as one of Tiger, Kamida personally slew a thousand Orks with the hand and glove of his twin. And would continue to wreak vengeance on the swine for as long as he lived. There was one small adjustment made for his brother, a touch Kamida knew Damika would appriciate. All the fangs of the old dragon had been chipped off or burned away. Kamida went back to the field of battle and looted the dead swine, fishing for their abnormally hard teeth and tusks. As Kamida joined the ranks of Tactical squad Tiger, his armor had been repainted and rebuffed. He decided to keep his jump pack to remind him that he was not fully a Tiger but loved his new squad even more than the old, his left hand had been replaced with Damika's very own prosthetic refurbished and tinkered for Kamida, the Dragon gauntlet sported white fangs, carved from the Orks its original owner had slain.


	5. Fire in the Vacuum

As the months past and the brother's of Tiger grew to love brother Haru even more, Haru's curiosity had grown even more. True he had heard of the great exploits of the other Hero, Force Commander Isei who had turned down the most honorable invite to join the Dragon Terminator Elite and had compensated the honor a hundred fold, slaying five hundred dark Eldar in a single night; How even the newest of squads, noble Dart and Talon squads, had enough honor to become at least one of the noble squads of another chapter; but that was where his interests stopped. One day, he declared that the Space Marines of the ground were the most noble and honor worthy of the Imperium. All around in earshot immediately stopped and frowned at the hotheaded brother.

"Cool your head brother Haru." Soshiro hissed. "You are entitled to your own opinion but you must never deliberately attempt to dishonor another, for that brings yourself dishonor as well as those around who do not chastise you for it."

"I apologize brother sergeant." Haru bowed his head in shame. "I meant no dishonor to the others. I withdraw my remark."

"Nonetheless, the blow has been dealt." Brother Dorimo said as he continued to clean and bless the sniper attachments for his bolter. "Tell me for I am curious, why you think so?"

"Speak freely." Soshiro nodded. "We have no secrets from each other."

"The Guard, and the Adeptus Mechanicus, are all honorable duties to the Emperor of course." Haru shrugged. "But they are not _Space Marines_, not one of the house, we are the divine instrument of his will are we not?"

"I feel you cannot explain this." Brother Tokoyaka laughed at the brother's bashfulness. "Is it that you feel, you are more efficient? That for every one marine, a hundred guardsmen are wasted?"

Haru nodded. "You speak truer than myself."

"And what of the House Fleet? Do you not think of them as honorable as you?" Tokoyaka riposted.

"I…" Haru stumbled on his lips and thought. Then laughed aloud. "A point you are trying to prove brother? Another story?"

"Only because you are such a good listener!" Tokoyaka laughed and began…

A hundred years ago, the Rising Sons faced a threat surfaced that challenged the entirety of the chapter. The Lords had grown wily, clever and confided amongst each other. Why should they be fighting each other at the moment? The Arm had been quiet for several years now, and each man's conquest was stopped by the Adeptus Astartes! So they allied themselves under a single banner, against the banner of the Rising Sons. The Four Lords were the most powerful at the time, controlling worlds where mighty ships were constructed and in a short amount of years had accumulated four battlefleets whose combined strength numbered two thousand ships, against the much smaller mobile fleet of the House, three hundred ships ranging from destroyers to battlecruisers. Few Lords sent their fleets to aide the chapter, most sidelined not willing to engage the warriors of the House but hoped that the two fleets would destroy each other. The House wasted no time, assembling their fleet and sending their feelers down the spy networks and astropath interdictors. One world, Fuji, would be where the main fleet rallied before jumping to attack the Fortress moon Edo itself. Another world, Tsushima, was where a smaller fleet would rally, and begin the attack and draw the house fleet out while the much bigger fleet would arrive and bombard the Fortress Monastery from orbit.

Lord Admiral Togo assembled three quarters of the chapter fleet, taking the biggest ships with him and set out to engage the forces at Fuji. Lord Commodore Yamamoto would command the smaller flotilla, 6 battle cruisers and 20 strike cruisers of the House followed by the less reliable Imperial Navy: two hundred light cruisers, four hundred destroyers and six hundred torpedo frigates. Both Navy's set out at the same time in an all out suicidal attack. Neither fleet would be striking the target they intended.

Lord Commodore Yamamoto breathed in the recycled air of the bridge of the flagship _Shogun_, his home for the past six decades. He did not envy his brothers on the ground, most of which seemed to think that being face to face with the opponent was more honorable. They knew warfare as dirty, brutal, savage, and noble. Yamamoto, in his subtle way, saw warfare as quiet, quick and slow at the same time. A puff of light, a crisp order meant the death of thousands often in the blink of an eye. The ranges were unimaginable for his footslogging brothers, so it was Lord Commodore Yamamoto's task to be inventive. He prided the navy man's efficiency, each set into his task to work as a cog in a well running machine that was the ship, and each ship wet into _his_ task to work as a cog in the fleet. He expected no less of the Imperial Navy who served under his command, again unlike the battle brothers who sought to shy them away from what they considered a real man's work. The Guardsmen lacked the solid reliability of his brothers. They had a reputation for breaking, being cautious under fire. Worst of all, their crews had never seen how ferocious a space battle could become. They would learn soon enough.

Yamamoto's fleet exited the warp and formed for battle, then began their travel on sub-light drives toward Tsushima. The strategy was simple, he kept the Sword Frigates and Light cruisers on his flanks, limber and mobile so they could wrap around the enemy while his own fleet kept to the center, where he hoped he could direct the most brutal of the fighting. He sent seven frigates forward to act as scouts, these had been converted into mobile carriers, each carrying a dozen Fury interceptors and a dozen Starhawk bombers. The ships in turn sent out their interceptors ahead, feeling hairs acting as sensors for the fleet. Yamamoto waited for three hours, his communication implants in his cranium attached to the fleet vox. He liked to be in direct command of these guardsmen, so that they knew who they fought for and for their own morale.

"_Contact, contact, fleet boosting alpha two zero, estimate six cruisers unknown type, twelve destroyers, Falchion class."_ One of the Fury pilots snapped crisply and coolly as he had been trained. Good, but would that hold under fire? _"Requesting instructions._"

"_Red Squadron, blue Squadron form up on Eye one's position."_

Here was where the game got interesting. On the right most flank, his scouting arm had come across an enemy patrol, a very large one. He knew better than to order them to fall back and await support they needed to taste battle, and however hard of a lesson that would be it would be necessary. He instead ordered the rest of the fleet to track the combat and listen in on the growing drama as they advanced in their battle line. He adjusted the fleet's speed as well so that they would catch up to the ships sooner.

"_New contacts boosting out." _The same pilot snapped. _"unestimated number, battleships destroyers, it's the whole shitting fleet!" _The channel went live as more ships responded to the Fury's distressed signal. On Yamamoto's tactical display he watched the rune representing the fighter swing around and dive toward his comrades, little singleship runes began bleeding from the enemy fleet position. The channel became chaotic.

"_Tally-ho, bogey's twelve o'clock high."_

"_Red group, blue group, green group, all fighters: weapons free, break by squads and fire at will."_

"Fortress Dominance_ moving to support."_

"Golden Throne _enroute_.

"_confirmed number of enemy ships, fifteen hundred."_

That last sentence on the channel stopped Yamamoto dead in his tracks. Fifteen hundred? That fleet was supposed to be at Fuji! The House intel was off. He had time to glance at the tactical display as his mind raced so that he could salvage the fleet and warn the House. The destroyers had moved up to support their guard comrades the cruisers lagging slightly behind, but now the guardsmen would take the core of the fleet, the center leaving the Space Marine ships to circle the flanks. No they could not take that kind of battering. Especially not against ships of that number and tonnage.

"Flag to all elements" He voxed. "Fall back and prepare to exit the system."

He received several confirm orders and a few of the ships even began to follow them. But it seemed that the rest were paralyzed with indecision, holding the line as the much bigger ships rushed towards them. The enemy Falchion's closed to range quickly – Throne there were so many of them! – and opened up with bow lance batteries, keeping in mind not to shoot into their own interceptor's dogfights which boiled in the spaces between the fleets. Several torpedo frigates rocked under the furious bombardment. One exploded gutted by no less than six beams.

Then something incredible. One of the frigates, _Oshi_, charged forward, his shields down and his wingmate destroyed. It dived behind the dogfight, using the boiling cloud of gnats as a shield. The enemy fleet immediately targeted the lone defiant ship but miraculously, they passed behind and before him. _Oshi's_ captain maneuvered so that his ship was unpredictable to track and upon entering range loosed off all his torpedos in a staggered salvo which struck a destroyer amidships and set it aflame while his second volley triggered explosive decompression off a frigate and sent it spiraling uselessly away.

That one act of defiance served more of a morale boost than Lord Yamamoto could ever have done himself. As the cheers from the _Shogun's _bridge crew filled his ears, Yamamoto watched the entire line of destroyers surge forward like a tsunami wave to crash against the rocks of the enemy line. _Oshi_ maneuvered closer and closer, all the while firing its pathetic forward plasma batteries which could not even hope to penetrate the enemy's shields and released a second salvo which succeded in crippling one of the heavy cruisers fatally. It tracked into the firing solution of a battleship's nova cannon and was vaporized along with two destroyers and another light cruiser. _Oshi_ was most honorable.

"Cruisers of the house!" Yamamoto bellowed into the vox. _"_Will you let these loyal servants of the emperor win more honor than you today? Support their flanks! Flag to All elements: Weapons free, show them the might of the House of the Rising Sons!"

Yamamoto ordered his own ship to join the battle line in the center where he felt he was most needed. The destroyers and frigates of the guard swept down and inward at the enemy's center stabbing at their battle line like a hundred needles slowly but surely pressing inward so that they closed to point blank range where the lance batteries and heavy weaponry of the enemy was just as hazardous to themselves as they were to their enemies. Yamamoto's Imperial Flotilla had no such restraints, they loosed torpedoes at will their fighters and starhawk bombers screaming between ships unloosing their payloads and generally harassing the enemy ships while their mother ships stayed behind with some of the light cruisers, ready to pick off any who escaped the light brigade's charge.

"Vampire vampire!" the call went out, incoming torpedo "Bearing six five zero spinward-"

"Make your depth sixteen hundred, starboard roll thirty degrees bring our topside flak to bear: weapons free!" Yamamoto barked rapidfire. He noticed no change in the ship, its internal gravity keeping his feet firmly rooted to the deck, but he felt and heard the dull thrum as the starboard and top flak weapons began their furious barrage to stop the incoming torpedo. Throne he was so close he could actually see small winks of light off the bow viewports. Each wink of light, the destruction of an enemy ship, each ship destroyed a thousand brave souls lost. Yamamoto breathed relief when his crew reported the incoming torpedo destroyed and called out a firing solution for the starboard broadside weapons, they would strafe a battleship that threatened to pass by them, its own weapons shot to hell by the passing frigate _Oori_.

"Take it." Yamamoto ordered and felt the dull _thunk thunk_ of his starboard guns, each hurling a building sized projectile, fired in a sixty gun salute.

The enemy feet roiled in confusion, stunned by the ferocity of the chapter fleet, they retreated and regrouped only to be hammered a second time with the same tactic that the fleet employed. By the time an entire day had passed, the battle had been decided. The enemy fleet, losing more than seventy percent of its strength limped away slipping into the warp towards Fuji, where the main Chapter fleet awaited them.

Yamamoto's own losses: two strike cruisers had not made it and a battle cruiser had to be scuttled and destroyed, its damage to great to repair. Most of half the cruisers and destroyers had survived, but the losses to frigates was horrendous. Six hundred proud Imperial Navy frigates set out. Two dozen remained. But their sacrifice meant the destruction and trial of nearly a thousand enemy ships, a hundred of which were no smaller than battleships. But Yamamoto's loss that he felt most highly was that of _Oshi_'s fate. _Oshi_ had, after claiming the hulls of a dozen ships, one a heavy cruiser, had been targeted simultaneously by thirty six ships, the lance batteries and guns blowing the frigates main power generator and life support. Honorable to the last Captain Shinoryu ordered his torpedoes loaded and prepped one last time and all of his remaining power diverted to the engines. _Oshi_ slammed into the enemy flagship _Pride of Dokuwa_ and loosed its torpedos taking a total one battleship and two destroyers in its death.

Honorable defiance. Yamamoto reflected. Every servant of the Emperor would be defiant in the face of the enemy to the last. And in that way, this normal human was far more honorable than Yamamoto could ever dream to be.


	6. The Bloody Line

Fire fell from the heavens. Over six hundred ships unleashed their might against the world below. Most were lances, capable of flattening continents, but some were heavy plasma guns that glassed the fringes of the Ork horde's advance so that they would be unable to gather resources, some were missile devastating incendiary or fragmentation or even concussion weapons that could flatten a thousand Orks with each detonation. Yet no matter how hard they tried, the Orks continued to advance, unabated to the northern Lorddoms of Summerus 5. Only a hundred thousand combined guardsmen remained on the planet. The Orks, even with their rate of decline, would number in the ten millions at least.

But they had not reckoned with the Rising Sons.

The troopships unleashed their might, strike cruisers deployed their squads almost luxuriously, thunderhawks fell from the sky, released their squads at the rallying zone, then turned into vicious predators on their return, strafing the far off Ork positions before returning to their mother ships. Aquila shuttles as well fell with them carrying half a million guardsmen and tanks and artillery. Marauder's worked endlessly to stall the Ork advance and give time for the combined units to prepare the ground.

Upon arrival, the Lords of the northern Lorddoms saw fit to throw feasts. Force Commander Isei immediately did away with that, putting the fine foods and wines to good use, drying the food and storing the wine for the long months that could await them should the mightiest fail. He put the serfs to good work, digging trenches, and putting up flakboard and overall preparing the ground for the Orks to blunder clumsily into like they usually would. The guard tanks were refueled and to be lead by Magos Techmarine Kyoto and the tank squadron of the chapter, a hundred proud predators in all. Artillery was coordinated by Magos Techmarine who immediately locked in and fired on the incoming horde as soon as all of his artillery pieces were set up, Whirlwind missiles, Earthshaker towed howitzers and Basilisk self propelled pieces all volleyed for a week straight, sending high explosive death raining down on the Orks.

Isei's tactical genius was outlined by Librarian Onagu. Kyoto's armored battle group would be sent first engaging the first of the Orks and would draw their armor away while six scout sniper squads under command of Brother Lieutenant Sixtus would harass the infantry mobs and draw them to the prepared field. The majority of the air support would be preoccupied, as the skies over Summerus 5 were suddenly hot and contested as the Ork low orbit carriers rallied against the chapter fleet. Artillery on the ground would be directed towards aiding Magos Kyoto whom would be facing nearly a hundred to one odds even though he commanded a battle group of two thousand.

The thousand members of the chapter and the six thousand supporting guardsmen infantry took positions on the high hills of the Backspine plains, which intercepted the Horde's march toward the city of Osaka. The battle brothers readied their equipment one last time, each brother cleaned his armor and soaped his skin. Sweet oils were laid on the inside of the armor so that if the limbs were hacked off, it would not smell foul. Swords were whetted, bolters cleaned, promethium flasks refueled, and visor optics reconfigured once more. The guardsmen readied themselves also. Although most were veteran fighters, few had ever faced Orks before and for that, they relied on a different kind of warfare. They reluctantly relinquished the cherished lasgun that they had come to use in the civil wars and took on the much longer laspikes. These weapons were essentially three meter tall lasguns with a heavy bayonet on the end, sturdy and light enough to be carried with two hands, the long barrel increased range and accuracy so that even firing from the hip the guardsmen could place shots at well over a thousand meters off. This was plains fighting, laspikes were perfect for open ground combat against a xeno species that tripled your body mass and height. In addition, each kept a laspistol and a katana just as long as the scout snipers were equipped with although if they were in need to use those against Orks, there wasn't much hope for them. They were trained to use the laspikes but they were not entirely familiar with their use, understandable seeing as it wasn't often guard infantry engaged Orks in open combat, at least not without armor and artillery support. Soon however, after only a few hours of drilling Soshiro saw that they were competent, wheeling in good order and placing accurate shots at their maximum distance and in good formation as well, tight grouped phalanxes that maximized each man's protection.

The first dust clouds started to appear over the horizon. Lieutenant Sixtus had succeeded in baiting the Orks toward the human lines and were running as fast as they could towards them each sniper occasionally pausing to take aim and fire. They were dressed in rush and weed suits that matched the khaki tallgrass of the plains. They sprinted back towards the line and leaped into the front ranks where Soshiro and Tiger squad stood. Each marine had their bolters across their chest, their individual warbanners strapped to their chest. Tiger took the center of the formation along with thirty other squads.

Soshiro felt a shiver run up his spine. Not a shiver from the far off roars and bellows of the Ork horde, but from the heavy almost animalistic breathing of the terminator next to him. Standing nearly a full head taller than Soshiro Dragon squad's Terminators took the deep center where the fighting was expected to be heaviest. Each terminator, save the one that sported the assault cannon, sported a power greatsword that was almost as big Soshiro. The single bladed weapons were so big they could not be sheathed and instead had a nitch on the back of the blade so that their handlers could rest them easily on their shoulders. They lacked powerfists, the Art of War felt it unwise to need to use a power weapon at that close range, especially in a suit so heavy it would take a full three seconds to swing one. The lack of powerfist meant that the arms had a much greater range of motion, enabling the terminators to swing their greatswords almost as fast as each Marine could swing his katana. In each suits left fist was a storm bolter. The terminator to Soshiro's immediate left was painted with red hand prints all over his armor and three war banners strapped to his back that each sported similar designs. It took a moment to realize that these were all Ork hand prints. And they were blood red. The terminator turned and looked at Soshiro and nodded in acknowledgement. The terminators face had been painted with a wicked smile, black mouth and teeth that looked so sharp they could jump out and flay Soshiro alive.

Soshiro tried not to quake in his armor.

At the command of Force Commander Isei, each man in the army knelt and paid homage to the Emperor as Chaplain Soryu strode the front line and chanted the litany of safe deliverance, honor in battle, and valorous combat. The Ork lines closed. They bellowed warcries and howls, they bore numerous weapons and dirty armor that befitted their barbaric reputation. Their line stopped five hundred meters away from the slopes of the hill, Isei had not give the order to fire. They taunted the Emperor's finest there, clanging cleavers against shields shooting bolters high into the air, even throwing their smaller gretchin slaves toward their lines only to have the gretchin's squeak with fright and scurry back to their masters.

It continued for a full ten minutes, with the chapter and guardsmen standing ready in silence. At a crisp command, a sniper volley from the top of the hill cracked and a hundred Orks fell from well aimed shots from the snipers of the chapter. They bellowed in rage and charged. The ground shook from the pounding feet and they seemed endless, stretching from eight hundred meters away to the other end of the horizon. Their charge, at a range of six hundred meters from the front line suddenly disappeared. The front rank fell amongst the punji pits dug by the serfs. Twenty feet deep and spiked, rank upon rank of greenskin impaled themselves on the trap until so many had died they were able to charge over their own dead. The guard officers ordered their soldiers to make ready, so their front rank knelt, laspikes resting on the ground but pointed toward the enemy while the subsequent ranks rested their pikes on the shoulders of those before them to steady their aim.

"Present arms!" Isei barked over the vox link, Soshiro heard and felt the _rattle clank_ of bolters being prepped to aim.

"The armor is weak by the legs." Brother Dorimo said, so low it was almost a whisper amongst the squad net. "Shoot the legs, break the runner. No need for outright killing just yet."

"Fire at will!" he roared and seven hundred bolters and six thousand lasguns rippled into play tossing waves of fire into the incoming tsunami. Rank upon rank of Ork fell, some men aiming low, cutting the legs out from under them, which if they missed the front rank, almost surely would hit the subsequent ones, packed together and too close to miss, the Orks tumbled over each other. Other men held high, taking Orks in the chest or head showering the after ranks with gore and blood. And they continually tripped over each other, as the front ranks fell, the remaining ones would fall also, stumbling over the dead or wounded comrades.

Soon the enemy formed a cadaver heap, eight Orks deep on a bloody line that spanned three kilometers in diameter and ten meters wide. The Orks continued to advance over the mountain of their comrades and into the storm of fully automatic bolter fire and lasgun volleys, which only stopped when the ammunition magazines were spent and the humans were forced to reload and open fire again. But even with the massive impediment the Orks continued to press forward, now the bigger ones came, the Nobs. Fully a head taller than a space marine, it took five or six shots to the chest to drop a single one. Now their bolters rang out, trading fire with the House. When the Sons stopped to reload, they stepped behind flak boards which, although wouldn't completely stop a bolter, would slow it down enough so that it would always ricochet of their adamanite armor. But the Nob heavy infantry now gave enough respite for the charge so that the smaller Orks, equally as tall and strong as a space marine to join the fray and soon the tidal wave came on again, unstoppable and hungry for blood.

At last the point came where the brothers would have no respite and not enough pause to reload.

"Swords!" the command rang out like a trumpet. Each warrior stepped behind his flakboard shield, strapped their bolter to their sides and drew their swords, adamanite scraped and wined on leather. Powerswords hummed to life. Soshiro thumbed the activation switch on Crimson song and red fire consumed the blade and licked the air as if lapping up pools of Ork ichor.

"For the throne!" Isei shouted and out of the corner of his eye, Soshiro saw him dart forward, always honorable and first to battle and take the head off a leading warboss with a single sideways stroke.

Soshiro gave a wild yell along with the rest of his battle brothers and charged forward, coming in low so that he took the legs out from under the first surprised Ork and was able to impale the one behind him on his blade. The power energy enabled the blade to slide in and out easily while doing the most damage. He felt no resistance as he slid the blade out of the disemboweled Ork and slashed across the chest of a third, opening up his thoracic cavity and showering Soshiro with blood. Brother Yokumano struck up a war hymn and soon all of Tiger took it upon their lips. They killed and sang, Haru as well, fighting as well as the rest of them and better than Soshiro could ever have hoped for. Brother Tokoyaka's laughter seemed to rise louder and above the din of battle, screaming Orcs, whining blades and bolter and lasfire. Soshiro was about to cut the throat of a warboss but Tokoyaka charged from nowhere, his blood red armor slick with black and red blood, and impaled the thing on one of his shoulder spikes as he slashed his head sideways like a bull and cut the throat of one of the warboss's body guards. His blade took the leg below the knee of a third.

The distinct hum and whistle of Yokumano's flute spear caught Soshiro's attention for a moment and he saw the spear point slash a long and jagged rent across an ork's face just long enough for Apothecary Fomuwo to release its head from its neck with a crossed blade slash. The whine of gears made Soshiro duck a screaming chainsword and as Soshiro turned to address the thing, he faltered a little.

The Ork, though not dressed as a warboss, stood fully two heads taller than one, and the chainsword it carried seemed too big for even Soshiro to lift. It raised its weapon to strike.

Swift as a phoenix, the terminator's greatsword struck and shattered the chainsword into splinters. The terminator Soshiro had seen before blew the Orks brains out, jabbing his left fist into the Ork's metal jaw and firing with the gauntlet stormbolter. It proceeded to growl a deep warcry as the brave warrior practically flung himself into an eye blurry duel against a killa-kan war walker.

Soshiro focused back onto the battle, and killed three more with his sword before Isei gave his command.

"Like Lightning strikes!" he bellowed and the remaining two hundred and fifty assault marines slammed into the ground throwing the Ork ranks into confusion. So tightly packed, a single swing from their powerswords would disembowel two or three Orks and stabs through the stomach would take them and the comrade behind it. It was close, personal and bloody.

It was glorious.

Like a dragon and a phoenix, brother Kamida joined Soshiro and together they wrought havoc amongst the Orks, laying in with powersword, dragon flamer and Soshiro's own "talons", gauntlet fingers carved and sharpened in the likeness of phoenix talons, they cut their way through enemy after enemy and they fell like wheat before them, till a killa kan blocked their path, saw blades slicing and buzzing, spraying rust and sparks at them.

Like an angel of death, a terminator swooped almost from nowhere, its armor jet black save for the white ivory of what appeared to be Ork skull bones infused on the armor. With a single swipe he bisected the war machine and proceeded on as if out for an evening stroll.

"Impossible to believe," Haru gasped for breath as he appeared out of nowhere. As Soshiro had expected his squad remained loyally anchored around him. he could not have asked for more. "Impossible to believe that such beasts have no fear of such things."

"Terminators can be feared." Tokoyaka panted raggedly through laughing teeth "But it is I whom they should fear the most!"

"Clearly." Brother Saketo grunted, his bolter barrel flashing as he passed by them.

The killing lasted the day, it had begun when the sun was high and now an eerie twilight fell punctuated by the clamor of weapons and men and Orks. When would it end? The Sons were pushed to their superhuman endurance and Crimson Song itself began to weigh heavily in Soshiro's hands. Would it be long before Commander Isei would order the retreat? How many of the guard had fallen? Soshiro stumbled slightly on a fallen laspike.

"I'm sorry brother." He muttered to the fallen guardsmen. They had handled themselves bravely, commendably excellent for what was given to them. He had not seen any unit break or retreat from exhaustion, as if proving to the Sons that they deserved to hold the line with them. But the order came across the vox net, the guardsmen were to fall back and regroup, the Brothers would cover their retreat and hold the line.

"Double your efforts!" Soshiro snapped into the vox as the guardsmen around him began their organized retreat, pikes raised at parade attention: facing upwards. "Cover your brother guards as if they were our own!"

And the brothers did just that far into the night. And continued to do so without backing down one step, until the morning shadow came up to them, a threat none of them had forseen.


	7. Flowers in the Dust

In the lull of battle, between the wee hours of the morning and the rising of the glorious sun, the sons took their casualties and cleaned the battlefield quickly. In the passing of the day and twilight, a hundred and six battle brothers had passed from this world to that beyond where the Emperor welcomed them with open arms, and there were only a mere one hundred and thirty seven that had survived without wounds. Eight brothers were down for the next week, wounds too grievous for them to be of any use. Unfortunately, when the news was broken to them, two of the eight decided to take their own lives, for shame that they had dishonored their brothers by burdening them. All deaths were mourned and many tokens were cast and incenses were burned for their passing. Of the guardsmen, two thousand had fallen on the plains and were equally mourned by their bretheren. But the battle had been won, the Orks had retreated, leaving behind them nearly six hundred thousand dead and wounded to be slain by vengeful guardsmen. Their howls of anger and pain echoed across the flats as they retreated just as swiftly as they had charged towards one of the far off dust clouds.

No word had been heard from the armored task force yet. By the tents where all the leaders of the task force were assembled, Commander Isei strode impatiently, bathed on one side by the firelight, the other by the tactical display's glow. Soshiro, as was his duty as one of those not wounded, helped the apothecaries, their gory work was not complete yet. The wounded were sought to, and even by the end of an hour, Soshiro counted no less than sixty that would be in need of augmentics, brothers and guardsmen alike.

"The orbital scans" Librarian Onagu said once he had called all the remaining leaders together and silent, "Show that this next dust cloud is much larger and dissipated with the rest. Which means this horde is much larger than the one we have just faced."

"And bested!" brother sergeant Kojimi, leader of Unagi squad shouted with roars of assent from his brothers.

"And now those greenswine know what it means to cross blades with the Sons!" Brother lieutenant Dokuro growled bringing another roar of assent before the Librarian could quiet them.

"now before we receive another outburst like that," Librarian Onagu spitted Dokuro with a glare that could have burned through his armor, "I will continue. Now if you see here on this chart, we know that brother Kyoto's battle group is still engaged, they have had no respite, and if you look to the skies brothers you can see that the flashes of light like white blossoms are no shooting stars, but our Navy brethren in the fleet continue their work against the Ork ships. As well, their jamming systems are in place we have not been able to vox any of our units for more than sixty kilometers." He enlarged the tactical display's image of the contact rune that showed the next incoming dust cloud.

"This unit, as I have dictated before I was so rudely interrupted, shows a much larger horde. And although I have no fears of our fighting prowess-" further cheers were met by a soft smile by the Librarian before returning his stern glare at the hecklers. "I do not like to put these things to such chance, such a slim one too. Therefore we must bring about our artillery to concentrate on this new threat."

"How is that if our vox units are out of range?" Soshiro asked.

"I ask for runners, any able bodied brother inductee to hand deliver this message, dictating the precise coordinates to be dropped over a large area of effect, if my calculations are correct where the Orks should be in nine hours."

"Nine hours?" Force commander Isei frowned.

"I know our swift inductees run three minute kilometer runs, Brother Isei but Understand that under the hot sun that will rise soon and our own exhausted state of battle, they should be able to cross the hundred kilometer distance in nine to ten hours."

"Inductee Soryaka" Commander Isei barked and the startled inductee stood from his position, where he was hunched over his sniper rifle polishing it till it gleamed in the twilight. "Would you honor us?"

Soryaka stood uneasily, Soshiro shook his head sympathetically. He understood the inductees uncertainty, on one hand, to be identified by the Force commander as the swiftest inductee was a great honor on top of being given so vital a mission as to have the entire chapter at stake. But he must have felt he belonged at his brother's side, in combat against the greenskins. What would he do?

Soryaka gazed at the stars for a moment, then shuffled his feet. The entire chapter seemed to hold its breath on him.

"Gladly sir." Soryaka finally said and bowed.

"The artillery positions lie a hundred kilometers to the west, so the sun will be at your back, swift as the wind may you go!" Force Commander Isei bowed back and Soryaka gathered his things, his sword and camoflauge webbing and started off, running easily toward the west.

"Where will the Orks be in nine hours, Brother Librarian?" Soshiro asked after Isei commanded the army to be ready, for new pits to be dug and for wounds to be bound quickly.

"Why, right on top of us Brother Soshiro." Onagu grinned darkly.

Little specks of dust in the distance, that's all they were, like fleas in a dust storm. But they were nearly twenty five kilometers out, and for Soshiro to be seeing them at that distance, they must have been huge. And there were so many of them as well.

The second wave of Orks blitzed across the plain, trampling the first like mice under a combine blade, the first wave of Orks were reduced to unpleasant stains by the Orks war steeds. Fully eighty meters tall, roaring, covered in rusting chain mail and bolters, blades and cannon nearly four hundred Squiggoth war beasts took the field across the Brother's position, and behind them, another indominatable sea of Orks, Soshiro knew it though he could not see it for the dust was so great. The ground quaked again, so much that Soshiro even felt himself bouncing, sometimes his own feet being lifted a few centimeters off the ground. The brothers murmured. They had never faced a squiggoth onslaught such as this, not so many of them and certainly without tank and air support. And they would have to kill four hundred and _then_ kill the Orks behind them? The task daunted Soshiro as he took his place in the front line of battle. Squiggoth skin was notoriously thick and as unpredictable as their Ork masters, sometimes a sniper round in the forehead would fell the beast, other times it would deflect even bunker busting missiles fired from Thunderhawk transport gunships, whatever the case they were mighty indeed.

"Brothers of the House!" Force Commander Isei bellowed over the roar of the beasts and thundering of their feet "Brothers of the guard! We come today against a might host, against an indominatable horde of pigs, with the rising sun to our right, to the east as it should be. Their beasts are mighty, their weapons are tough and they are countless, but we are strong!"

A roar that all the brothers took and the guardsmen as well matched that of the incoming horde.

"We are loyal sons of the emperor and our own suns burn in our hearts as we shake our blades at a foe too cowardly to meet us fairly! Though we have no tanks, no beasts of burden ourselves, no damning fire from the heavens we can unleash, we still have our swords, and we still have our guns!

Another roar and pikes and bolters were shaken in defiance. The armor glittered in the sunrise.

"We are the children of the Tingle Arm, where all are strong but the strongest stand here! United under the banner of the Emperor to fight the greatest foe! United as brothers, equal in the eyes of the God of Man! United by our blood, and bravery!"

Soshiro beat his chest and roared with the rest of them. Force Commander Isei strode the field in full defiance of the unslowing horde, raising his troops into a war frenzy that had even the calmest Saketo hungry for blood.

"we are the Chapter of the House of the Rising Sons and the brother guardsmen from the world of Edo and should we fall this day, the greenskins will know though their own twisted song and lore, how three thousand brave souls took a stand against nearly two _million_ of their kind and slew each and every last one of them before their last breaths left them!"

For a moment, their yells crescendoed over that of the squiggoth's roar, they burned with the warming sun and the foe came at them their line so wide they outstripped the humans three kilometer defense line by a full six kilometers.

"make ready my brothers!" Force Commander Isei boomed as he grunted to lift a heavy bolter to his waist. There was a staccato _clack-clack_ as the brothers freed their breach locks and safeties and the guardsmen lowered their laspikes to face the enemy once again.

"May the Emperor save us." Brother Soshiro whispered, he was aroused by Brother Isei's speech no less than the other battle brothers but somehow the sinking feeling of defeat hung inside his gut like a stone.

"A fine day to die." The Brother Terminator with bloody armor growled next to Soshiro.

"Yes." Soshiro shook himself and found comfort in the Emperor's mightiest. "A fine day."

"Present Arms, bolters then as you will brothers!" Force Commander Isei aimed the bolter and the others aimed their weapons as well. Soshiro heard several brothers snap sniper barrel attatchments to their bolters, Brother Dorimo among them. They had not relinquished their sniping skills from the days of Scouting and honored the Emperor by continuing to use their given Talents.

"_For the Emperor!_" Force Commander Isei blasted away with his heavy bolter and tracers, like bright pollen, empty shells like falling petals, and muzzle flashes like blossoms met the charging squiggoth's in a tangled garden of death.

AN: cliff hanger's are killjoy aren't they? ;) Don't worry: more to be coming soon, I'm just taking the time to analyzing how the battle will be laid out and the continuation of the story line. But as I have to ask right now for anyone reading please leave a review no matter how harsh, I plan to become a future writer and would love my worked critiqued seriously.


	8. Shame and Glory

Gunfire, screaming, roaring, death. That's all it was. Soshiro blasted away with his bolter, aiming for the heads of the first Squiggoths, even dumb beasts as these would quail before the onslaught of gunfire, really no more than bee stings to them, to the face. But they were bred from the same dumb breed as the Orks, while a few of the smarter, saner ones veered off and choked off the other's advance, the more stupid of them merely bellowed in rage and surged forward.

And their stupidity was what made fighting Orks so dangerous. There were war machines that weaved between the squiggoth ranks as well, rickety motor bikes, unusually crafted land speeders and even the hulk of a leman russ joined the ranks. Rockets flared from both ranks and crisscrossed in smoking patterns to detonate on the other side. One screamed right past Soshiro's head and twirled upward and detonated showering them with nonlethal molten fragments. Heavy bolter tracers rained down on him, and he felt staccato punches on his armor as the rounds burst but failed to penetrate.

By the Throne he had emptied six clips into this one and it had still not veered off! It was almost on top of them. He heard the terminator give a war and raise his greatsword and charge fearlessly. Miraculously the hulking suit moved swiftly and the Terminator weaved through the squealing motorcycles, slashing one or two in half before starting on the Squiggoth's stomping legs, the powersword easily slicing through the beasts tendons and hamstrings with a single swipe.

Soshiro couldn't tell if the roar he was deafened by was that of the Squiggoth or of the Ork in front of him but he didn't care. Crimson Song came out unbidden and was jammed straight through the beasts head before Soshiro realized what he was doing. Assault Marines screamed over head to land on top of a few of the beasts in an attempt to kill the drivers and teams that mounted the weapons on top, the guardsmen's pikes were splintered by feet and tossed high into the air by the charge. Soshiro simply reverted to animal instinct, concentrating on only the next slash, the next stab, the next block as he clove his way through hordes of greenskin in the dusty smoke. His visor automatically penetrated the wall of dust and he had shut off the audio receivers so as to concentrate better, the clamor of battle was so great it could fatally distract him. Sounds became intertwined and distances jumbled. There were no more lines, there was no more strategy for all of Commander Isei's brilliant planning, now it was every brother, every man, for himself against an ocean of Orks.

He couldn't remember how many he'd killed, he'd never bothered to keep track. He saw the brother terminator once again wading through a fresh group of Orks, their blood now staining his already blood red armor. He felt the squiggoth's hammer feet lift him off the ground as one passed by.

He saw a brother fall as he blasted away with his bolter.

The instant was a slow one for Soshiro. The brother had his helmet off, probably too damaged to be of further use to him. his armor was leaf green, with a blossom pattern decorating it. His hair was cropped short, his eyes were cold grey. His sword was missing, his war banner in tatters but still he blasted away. His lips were drawn in a ferocious snarl that damned anyone that was caught in the bolter sight. But just as quickly as Soshiro had seen him, a war axe came spinning over head and lodged sideways into the battle brother's head.

Somehow this was more terrifying than anything Soshiro had seen the past day. Haru suddenly appeared at Soshiro's side and the youngster's presence soothed Soshiro as he whirled the powersword to take three heads off roaring Orks. Something in his stomach remained after the fear had left though, Soshiro couldn't place it but tried to ignore it. He saw Haru nod as if speaking and reactivated the audio link. The clamor returned.

"Come!" He saw Haru gesture toward one of the Squiggoth's as it plowed eagerly into a fresh batch of warriors, concerned not that it tossed more Orks than Marines into the air. He wondered what Haru meant but followed him all the same, how odd that he as the squad leader was following their newest member. But the pair cut their way toward the beast, maybe forty meters away, forty meters of screaming writhing Ork. Kamida came from the heavens, smashing into the ground and tossing two orks into the air with the force of his landing and burned another eight with his hand flamer. The trio reached the Squiggoth, Kamida leaping onto it and lowering a rope so Haru and Soshiro could reach it. They rode on it with some difficulty but once they had reached the beasts back, they surprised the Orks and killed them all. They turned the weapons onto Orks, firing into the endless masses. It was from their that Soshiro appreciated the might the Orks threw at them. His heart faltered like the shadow that creaked over them.

Standing a full one hundred meters tall, it stalked on two legs, tracers like sweat dripped down from platforms. Every step it took sent a dust cloud twenty meters high and a hundred meters in all directions. The charging dust obscured it and even wise Onagu hadn't anticipated this threat. Soshiro's trigger finger slipped from the mounted heavy bolter. A Gargant.

"Brother sergeant!" Kamida shouted snapping Soshiro back from his fear.

"I see it!" he shouted back. "Keep shooting the Orks, ignore the thing!"

And the trio did on the writhing back of the squiggoth. He saw the first Terminator fall from this vantage point. It was standing atop a small hill of Orks, maybe two dozen cadavers thick. A rocket had blown the helmet clean off the face so now that Soshiro could see the red faced brother beneath. An Ork jammed a pike into a rent in the Terminators armor and penetrated, stabbing him through the rib cage. Though the brother's face twisted and contorted, he still took the face off it and continued killing. Another Ork, a warboss just as tall of the terminator leaped onto the brothers back and knocked him down and began raining blows onto its back until the armor split open leaving him vulnerable. The blows rained down. The blood spurted up. Soshiro's bolter hadn't found its mark the entire time, shells rained all around the warboss instead. And now its ammunition was expended.

"I'm out!" he barked.

"Me too!" Haru shouted.

"Nothing for us to do up here then." Kamida said as he stabbed into the Squiggoth's brain. The thing bucked and sent them all flying into the Horde.

Soshiro was alone again. He whirled his powersword in circles killing everyone he touched. He was consumed into the battle, not caring who he killed they were all Orks anyway, some maniac laughter came over him, like Tokoyaka but different. Tears fell as well. It was a cry of hopelessness. He shut his vox link off and wept in hopelessness as he killed them all around him.

He was alone. A sea of screaming Orks surrounded him. he had failed not only in the undertaking, but his brothers as well. He showed fear, and that was what would kill him in the end. The most important maxim of the codex: show no fear, show no hatred. A calm mind is that of the victor. He forces those who show fear and hatred to react to him and will never be put on the defensive. But now Soshiro was on the defensive. He wasn't fighting for the planet any longer.

He was fighting for his very life. He wept and prayed begging the emperor for his forgiveness. He felt a blow land to the right of his head, sending him spinning and bowling into another Ork. He got up on his knees and slashed furiously but another blow, this time to his side and this time penetrating the armor, sent him sprawling. He rolled to his back and suddenly noticed his sword was missing. It was two feet away, the blade deactivated once it left Soshiro's hand. He found he couldn't move. The pain was too great and even when he inched toward it, blood shot from his wound. The Orks around him were cheering roaring in glee as they brandished cleavers and axes eagerly.

Their warboss, a four meter tall fellow with bionic eyes roared in triumph as the shadow of the Gargant passed over Soshiro once again.

Fire from the heavens. The dirt exploded around him and the sky exploded. Soshiro instinctively curled up, despite the pain that wrenched him. He covered his eyes instinctively, he shut off the audio. High explosive frag shells burst overhead and rained death onto the horde.

It was the end longest nine hours of Soshiro's life. As he sat in the cowering position, he wept for his shame.


End file.
